


Two Rules

by RichieBrook



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BDSM, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:10:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2103885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichieBrook/pseuds/RichieBrook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They only have two rules when it comes to Richard's visits to Jim: Tell me when you get there and tell me when you leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Rules

At least the room’s dark. Pitch black, almost, enveloping him in welcome solitude. No one will see the tears. There have been enough of those today.

It feels as if someone placed something heavy on his chest. He wants to pant and gasp for breath, but it is only a choked sob that leaves him. No air goes in, no oxygen, and just like that, he’s panicking. The familiar feeling of the cuffs on his slender wrists is fading – too soon, much too soon – and he curls up into himself. He knows exactly where he is and he knows exactly who’s there with him, but for now, none of that’s enough to calm him. There’s a voice, a soft, familiar rumble, but he can’t seem to make out the words. An overwhelming feeling of sadness squeezes his throat shut, and he can’t see past the confusion and the tears in his eyes. There’s a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, and he makes out his own name on his lover’s lips: “Richard?”

“Just give me a minute,” he hears himself say. “I’ll be alright in a sec.” But he won’t be, and that’s what Severin tells him, too. Not to taunt him, but to let him know that it isn’t going to work like this. “We’re going to give it a minute,” Rin then agrees, his voice quiet, “but I’m staying here with you.” And he kneels next to Richard, wrapping strong arms around him. He knows he’s been a little harder on Richie than he usually is, but that’s not where this is coming from. He almost wishes it was.  
“You’ve done so well,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to Richard’s hair. Richard doesn’t hear him. That, or he doesn’t _want_ to hear. He isn’t entirely sure himself. The floor’s cold and he shifts, but he’s still on his knees, despite Severin telling him to get up ages ago. Severin’s face as he refused the order would have been funny if the situation had been different.

“Do you want the cuffs back for now?” Severin tries, smoothing strong hands over Richard’s wrists; wrapping his fingers around them. He knows how much Rich adores the soft leather cuffs. He’ll wear them whenever he’s asked to, whether they’re watching telly or curled up in bed, and every time, he regrets having to take them off. Still, he shakes his head. He doesn’t want the cuffs back and Severin should have known.

So they sit in silence, for minutes, hours, who can tell? Severin’s hands remain tightly wrapped around Richie’s wrists, keeping them close and keeping him grounded. Richard’s still on his knees. He feels like he’ll never get up again. Not after today. He’s used to light punishment (hell, you’ve got to live a little), but this time, he actually hurt Severin. It’s not the severity of his punishment that has him short of breath and scrambling to regain his calm.

Severin shakes his head, abruptly. It’s taken long enough. He cradles Richard in his arms and quietly announces: “I’m going to carry you to the bed now.” Christ, how he wishes this were sub drop. He knows how to handle that. It’s difficult and he hates seeing Richie cry, but he _knows_. He can’t work with guilt. He can’t work with the stoic expression on his lover’s face, or the silence and the dark. Can’t do anything but try his utmost.

Richard doesn’t protest as he’s carried to the bed and he doesn’t protest when Severin sits down right next to him. Even his sobs sound distant. He isn’t sure how often he’s said sorry, or how often he begged for one more lash and one more minute on his knees, Severin, please. What they have isn’t supposed to be so serious and grave. It’s like any other good relationship, just – better. Fuller. Even when Richard crosses a rule, Severin usually inflicts punishment with a playful smile and a shake of his head, and Rich secretly enjoys it. They both know he does. Now, his backside feels raw and he isn’t sure whether he’s deserved it.

It has never been this bad. “The rules, Richard,” Severin had all but shouted as soon as his lover had stepped into the hallway, “are established for your safety, especially when it comes to that… to that _nutcase_ of a brother of yours.”

There are only two rules to do with Jim, but they are the only rules Severin repeats on a regular basis. First, tell me when you get there, and secondly, tell me when you _leave_. Richard knows how important those rules are to him. They’ve been in effect for years, too, ever since Richard came home to Severin with a broken nose and fresh stitches above his eyebrow. It was Rin’s own brother who had carefully sewn the wound back up.

With Jim, you never know what happens. There are rules you don’t break , but tonight, Richard, in his excitement, has done just that.

“He invited me for dinner.” Apart from the inevitable ‘I’ll be alright’, it’s the first thing Richard says in hours. He’s been silent ever since punishment ended. His voice is rough and Severin wraps an arm around him. He knows. Hours ago, he phoned his brother in blind panic, demanding to speak to Richard. Richard, who had been out to dinner with Jim, apparently. Jim wanted to _treat_ him, Sebastian had said. He’d been in a good mood all week. Severin’s jaw clenches at the mere thought of it all, but he’s had the time to calm down. Richie has had his punishment. It’s over and Severin has forgiven him. Now if only Richard would forgive himself.

“I heard,” says Rin. “Seb told me he took you to your favourite place. Did you have fun?”  
Richard nods. He did have fun. Jim hadn’t been dangerous today. He’d just been Jim. All friendly smiles and “It’s been way too long, Richie! Have coffee with me on Thursday!”.

Severin lies down with him, wrapping his arms around Richard’s shivering body. “Breathe,” he commands. “Don’t forget.” And then: “You know how punishment works, don’t you, Rich.” It’s more of a statement than a question. “It’s over, you’ve done brilliantly, and you’re forgiven.” He traces the red welts on Richie’s backside with careful fingers. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m really glad you had fun.”

Richard shivers. The touch reminds him of just how hard tonight’s lashes were, of just how long Severin kept at it, and of how Rich himself begged him for more, legs straining with the effort to keep himself up.

“I hurt you. I damn well deserved it,” he breathes. And it’s such a blunt and honest statement that Severin can’t say that no, Richard, you didn’t hurt me. He doubts he’s ever been so worried.

“You know what he’s capable of,” he murmurs instead. “You shouldn’t feel guilty. It’s all good now, and you had a great evening.” Richard shrugs. It doesn’t matter what Severin says; he can’t simply ignore the crippling feeling of guilt he’s been battling ever since he came home. Severin had been white as a sheet as he gestured to the bedroom with shaking hands.

“I _am_ sorry,” Richard whispers, and he remembers to breathe, like Severin told him. His night out with Jim _had_ been fun. They’d shared a bottle of red and eaten Richard’s favourite meal. They’d exchanged gossip about the Morans, grinning cheekily behind their wine glasses, and Jim had promised to come see Richard’s new play.

“It was almost like he was normal, today.”

And Severin knows Rich loves his brother, just like he does Sebastian. He can only imagine how hard it must be to realise you’re not safe around your own goddamn twin. How hard it must be to have to agree on a set of rules when it comes to _your own goddamn twin_ , for your own safety.

Richard goes pliant in his arms, tiredness taking the best of him, and Severin’s heart thumps in his chest. This is familiar ground; he knows what Richard needs and he knows what Richard wants. Blindly, he reaches for the velvety black cuffs in his nightstand, easily snapping them around Richie’s wrists. Richard watches him in quiet agreement.

“Breathe, Rich.”

So Richard does. He stares at his cuffed wrists, fascinated even after all those years, and touches Severin’s chest lightly. He’ll feel guilty for days to come, but his backside smarts ever so pleasantly and his eyelids are heavy. “Hurts,” he murmurs. His throat rasps unpleasantly as he speaks after all that gasping for breath. “It’s good.” Not as good as usual, when he’s in it for the sheer fun of it, but it’s done him good. They’re still doing their thing. That hasn’t changed.

Tears are threatening to spill onto his cheeks, so he lets them. His wrists are safely cuffed, making him feel grounded and warm, and Severin isn’t angry with him, but Rich wants him to be. Wants him to be furious and loud. Strong arms hold him tightly as he sobs and Richard knows that his lover is secretly relieved, now. _This_ is something Severin can handle, this is something he knows about, tears and unfounded sadness. So Richard doesn’t worry any longer. He cries and cries until his eyes are raw, and he knows Severin will be there to pull him through it.

Jim was so kind, today.


End file.
